


crimson

by sayhellotothestars



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora is a king, Adora is naive and in love, Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage AU, Catra has a job, Catra wants her mother's praise, F/F, Not Beta Read, Not Really?, Open Ending?, Shadow Weaver is a creepy sorceress, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, but in her defense, her most prized possession is her beautiful daughter, idk we all know she probably won't do it, she also unfortunately has a conscious, she's questioning them too, with slightly questionable morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayhellotothestars/pseuds/sayhellotothestars
Summary: Shadow Weaver manages to arrange a marriage between her daughter and the King of Eternia. From the first meeting, Adora is whipped for the beautiful young woman, but Catra has a job to do and Shadow Weaver will make sure she gets it done. No matter what.Especially if Catra starts to have second thoughts at some point.Arranged Marriage AU
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101
Collections: SPOP Catradora AUS





	crimson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrow/gifts).



“You look beautiful, C’yra.” Cold fingers pushed back the soft tresses that fell over Catra’s eyes. Catra bowed her head in respect, then gave her mother an equally cold smile. 

“Thank you, mother,” Catra replied. She remained silent, stiff as a board, as her mother continued arranging the stray hairs around her face. She occasionally caressed her cheek and fiddled with the ends of her hair, seemingly lost in thought until Catra cleared her through and broke her out of her daze. Catra watched her with heedful eyes.

After a couple of minutes, Shadow Weaver stepped back. She clasped her hands together in front of her, satisfied with her work, and nodded her head. “Now you’re perfect. Take a look, C’yra.” 

Catra took a deep breath. She turned around and took a hard look at her reflection. She had to admit, she looked _amazing_. “The king,” Catra murmured, “will fall for it. She won’t be able to resist.” 

Shadow Weaver chuckled. Catra tried not to cower away from her mother, but the sound was eerie and disturbing, so unlike her character, that she couldn’t contain her grimace. Shadow Weaver remained undeterred. There was a strange sort of glee in her voice that made the hair at the back of Catra’s neck stand up—but, then again, her mother’s voice always roused the deepest, most feral, instinctive reactions out her. She was used to it. “And that’s what we want, isn’t it? _My dear_ , when the king pledges her heart to you, she will be so blinded by love she won’t realize what we’re doing until it is too late! By then, well… you know the plan.” 

Catra straightened up. She leveled her gaze. “Of course, mother. I know what must be done. I _will_ do it.” It was odd, still, but it seemed proper, _meaningful_ somehow—so Catra turned, and took her mother’s hands in hers, and spoke determinedly. “For us. Family first.” 

Shadow Weaver met Catra’s eyes with an unreadable expression. Slowly, her lips turned up into the ghost of a hard smile. “Family first,” Shadow Weaver echoed, “always.” She hummed. She released Catra’s hands. For a moment, Catra was disappointed, but then she began to move her hands in a familiar motion, and Catra quickly perked up. 

“Your ambition has always made me proud,” Shadow Weaver began, her fingers moving deftly in specific motions Catra couldn’t be bothered to follow as traces of magic began to appear in her palms. “I knew from the moment I looked into your eyes that you would be destined to do great things, C’yra.” 

Catra shivered. Her mother rarely offered her words of praise—she didn’t want to make her dependent on other people’s compliments and affections. She made her strong, self-sufficient, and independent, something Catra thanked her for, profusely. She knew her mother loved her, she did everything out of love for Catra, even when Catra herself couldn’t see it. She was proud of her—the trust she put in her to complete her tasks spoke volumes of it—but just this once, Catra let herself momentarily revel in the pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction that the praise brought her. She deserved it. 

Shadow Weaver sighed. “You were so small once… tiny, loud, completely useless if left to your own devices. Now, look at you. You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman. You’re strong-willed, determined—”

“Thanks to you, mother.” Catra interrupted. “You made me who I am. Do not sell yourself short.”

“Of course.” Shadow Weaver chuckled. “Soon I will get to reap the fruits of my labor.” 

“I’m going to finish what you started. I will make you proud, mother.”

“So you will, darling.” Shadow Weaver’s hands finally stilled. The magic mist lifted, and then she held up the object in her hands. 

“A necklace?” Catra asked curiously, leaning close to inspect it. Her mother was never the one to gift her jewelry—or anything, for that matter. 

“Yes. My gift to you: your wedding gift. Come, my darling, turn around.”

Catra’s body moved automatically to obey her mother’s command, but she was still in a stunned state of mind. “It’s beautiful, mother," she said earnestly. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the beautiful ruby gem. First praise and now a present? Despite Catra’s initial irritation about the whole situation, her spirits were quickly lifting and she wasn’t feeling so vexed about the facade she would soon need to keep up to complete her mother’s plan anymore.

Shadow Weaver’s fingers finished securing the necklace around her neck. “There. Now you will always have a part of me with you.” 

“Is it a magical charm?” Catra wondered as she brushed her finger across the warm, smooth surface of the gem. Energy buzzed beneath the pad of her finger every time she touched it. 

“I made it for you. It holds a piece of the Black Garnet. This way you will _always_ have a piece of me with you. You will always be able to reach me with this. Should worse come to worst, you will be able to contact me and I will come to help you. Keep this on, C’yra, always. No matter what happens, as long as you keep it on, I will be able to find you.” Shadow Weaver stressed. 

“I understand,” Catra responded. “Thank you, mother. I love it. I feel safer already.” 

Shadow Weaver hummed and smiled. Her cold hands took hold of Catra’s shoulders in what Catra assumed was supposed to be an encouraging manner. “Now, that’s enough of the mushy chatter. Your time is near. Are you ready?”

Catra took a deep breath to steel her nerves. It didn’t matter that she was growing nervous. It was time, and she had a part to play. “I’m ready to do what must be done.”

Shadow Weaver cackled with delight. “Perfect.” 

* * *

Blue eyes, bright and full of life, beam at Catra. She already said her vows, she already made her promise, gave her her ring—her life.

Catra gives a shy, tentative smile, and she swears she can see the way the king falls a little more in love. Her entire demeanor relaxes, features softening into a private, meaningful look of encouragement, and Catra bows her head a little, blush blooming beneath the glowing look of adoration she’s getting. It’s warm and disturbing. Catra’s never felt so much unrestrained affection. 

Adora looks away when the priest calls for C’yra’s attention. Catra turns to him and gives a rehearsed smile in response to the joyful look she gets before she allows herself a second to sweep her gaze past Adora’s shoulder. Shadow Weaver stands there in her gown, watching Catra with an unreadable look, but with pointed, expectant eyes. Her head is inclined—Catra startles when a warm hand falls on her wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” the king says, giving her a nervous smile. She retracts her hand and scratches the back of her neck, laughing a little. “We kinda lost you there, are you okay?” she asks quietly, eyes turning concerned. 

Catra almost feels bad about the whole thing, but one more look toward her mother and she nods slightly. “I’m okay,” she whispers back. She turns back toward the officiant. “I’m ready.” She takes a deep breath. “I, C’yra, take you, Adora, to be my wedded wife; and I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

 _Sorrow. Sickness. As long as we both shall live._ The words ring loudly in Catra’s head. She can hear the priest speaking more—it sounds like nothing more than a dull, droning in the back of her head. 

She can feel the cold gaze of her mother, and as the reality of what she has to do now is finally sealed, it feels unsettling more than supportive. Catra sighs out a deep breath and tilts her head. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Adora slowly unveils Catra’s face to the world. Her hand trembles when she cups Catra’s jaw before she gently tips her chin up and closes the distance between them. 

_Fuck_ , Catra thinks. She might be starting to feel the inklings of guilt. Killing the king and stealing the kingdom will be like taking candy from a baby. It will be so unsatisfying to be so unchallenged. But alas, what’s done is done. In six months, change _will_ come. 


End file.
